


A New Kind of Everything

by ashandcas (ashriddle4)



Series: The Devils Are Here [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean Winchester, M/M, Mark of Cain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1674134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashriddle4/pseuds/ashandcas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean takes “demon lessons” from Crowley while Cas tries to survive on borrowed grace and Sam must contend with living and hunting with two demons and an angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Kind of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Dean's going to more like a fledgling demon trying to understand his powers more than just a bloodthirsty killer. He'll still mostly be himself. If you're looking for crazy evil Dean, it won't happen here. (This is chapter one of part one of what I'm hoping will be a four part series with five chapters each.)

Sam was still sitting on a chair with his hand wrapped around a glass, a bottle nearly empty beside him, when he heard a voice,

“Sam? Sammy. You here?”

Sam’s heart shook. He jumped up from his chair, dropping his glass. It shattered on the floor.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Dean said.

Dean.  It was Dean. No longer bloody from last night, in a change of clothes. Seemingly healed.  Alive. 

“You’re, you’re not dead.”

“Disappointed?”

“No.” Sam crushed Dean in a hug. “No, Dean.”

Dean patted him lightly on the back. “That’s, uh, good then.” Dean backed away and then twitched a little, squeezing his eyes shut and looking down. “Whoa.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just dizzy.” Dean let out a breath. “Wait-I was dead.”

Sam nodded.

“Now, I’m not.”

“I know.”

“What did you do?” Dean snapped.

“Nothing. I tried to but Crowley wouldn’t deal.”

“Don’t,” Dean said sharply. “You do not sell your soul for me, Sam. Ever. Is that clear?”

“You said.”

“You look for a way to get me back. You don’t sell your soul. No more demon deals.” Dean hopped up on the edge of the table. He had a half smile on his face and then it fell. “ Cas .”

“Dean.”

“Have you heard from him?”

Sam shook his head. “I’m sure he’s fine.” Sam wasn’t so sure, but he also had no idea what he could do about it.

“I didn’t kill Metatron. He could have killed Cas by now.” Dean put his hands on his head. “I took a damn shower. Why didn’t I think? I wasn’t thinking. What’s wrong-” He jumped up from the table and started to pace. “We have to go.”

“Go where?”

“Heaven. Find Cas, and then Metatron and kill the giant bag of dicks.”

“You tried to kill Metatron once already. He killed you. It was like ten hours ago in case you forgot.”

Dean was breathing heavily now. His sharp, erratic movements unsettled Sam as he paced the floor. Must be more effects of the Mark. “If he so much as laid a finger on Cas, I will tear him apart piece by piece, and I will slaughter the rest of the angels along with him.”

“Dean!” Sam barked.

Dean stopped, tilted his head toward Sam. “We’re leaving.”

“To do what? Seriously, do you have a plan?”

“Metatron said Cas is in heaven’s prison. I am going to go break him out. You can come with me or you can stay here and drink. Up to you.”

The bunker door opened. Only one other person could do that. Sam and Dean stopped arguing and turned to face the door.

“Sam! I came as soon as I could. I’m sorry.”

Cas made his way down the steps, keeping his head tilted down toward his feet.

“Cas,” Dean breathed.

Cas looked over, stopped dead in his tracks. “Dean?” his voice broke.

Sam saw Dean’s body shudder as Cas looked at him. Cas’s face grew stern. Dean looked over at Sam. His eyes. No. No. No. His eyes were black. Of course Dean being alive was too good to be true.

“Get out of my brother!” 

Sam pulled out his demon knife. Dean’s eyes widened, returning to their normal appearance. The knife flew out of Sam’s hands and clattered on the ground. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Dean shouted. “What’s going on?”

Sam started reciting the exorcism.

“Have you lost your mind? Ow. What is that?”

But as Sam kept talking, nothing seemed to be happening. Black smoke wasn’t coming out of his brother’s mouth. The demon wasn’t leaving, wasn’t letting Dean rest in peace.

“Stop!” Cas shouted. “Stop, Sam. It’s him. It’s him.”

Sam gasped, but kept the words in. He turned toward Cas. “What do you mean?”

“Dean’s soul. I recognize it.”

“No because then you’re saying…”

Cas shut his eyes. “I wish I weren’t.”

“Would you guys like to let me in on what’s going on?”

Cas turned toward Dean. “You’re a demon, Dean.”

Dean shook his head. “No, no. Of course I’m not.”

“The Mark,” Cas said. “It makes sense that he’d be. Cain was.”

“I’m fine,” Dean replied, his voice shaky. “I’m not. I just feel a little off is all, but I’m good. I’m not. I can’t be. I’m not!”

Sam grabbed the salt shaker off the table and tossed some toward Dean. The grains hit him in the face. It sizzled, he growled and black eyes flickered where Dean’s green ones should be.

Dean looked toward Sam and then at Cas. “Holy - you have to lock me up. Now. Like we did Crowley.”

“No, Dean,” Cas replied.

“Sam, you know we have to.”

Sam nodded then looked toward Cas. “Just until we figure out what’s going on and how to fix it. How to make him human again.”

 

. . . 

  
  


Cas was still in shock. Last night had been the worst of his life. Worse than when he lost his grace, when he couldn’t hear Dean anymore, because he knew Dean was out there living and breathing. That made whatever pain he had to go through worth it, but when Metatron said he killed Dean, Cas had never felt pain like that. Pain that seemed to go on a million years in both directions like an endless loop that had always existed.

He hadn’t even thought about this. He should’ve thought about it. About what the Mark would do to Dean. It was okay now. He told himself. They knew how to cure a demon. Everything was going to be fine.

When they arrived in the room where they’d kept Crowley chained, Dean sat down in the chair and put his hands out to be cuffed. Shaking, Cas picked up the cuffs and locked them around Dean’s wrists as Sam chained Dean to the chair.

Cas’s fingers brushed across Dean’s wrists, making Cas’s heart leap in his chest. He turned and tried to shake the feeling away.

“There is one problem,” Dean said.

“What?” Cas asked.

“The curing thing.”   
Sam stood up from where he’d been kneeling beside Dean. “What do you mean?”

“After Gadreel, when you guys locked me up. I started puking up blood.”

Cas tensed. “What?”

“I summoned Crowley. He said it was an effect of the Mark. That I had to kill or the Mark would kill me. A human body isn’t strong enough to endure it. A demon body on the other hand.”

Sam sighed. “You’re saying if we cure you then you die.

“And then I’m guessing I’ll become a demon again unless we know how to get rid of the Mark.”

“So we get rid of the Mark,” Sam said.

Cas shook his head. “The only way I know of to do that is to give the Mark to someone else.”

“Which if I do that, I doom someone else’s soul to hell,” Dean finished Cas’s thought.

“There has to be another way,” Sam said.

“Maybe, but for now we don’t know what it is and until we do, we can’t risk it.”

“So I just stay here indefinitely? Someone better bring me a TV or some pornos.” Dean looks down at his cuffed hands. “Forget the pornos.”

“ Dean ,” Cas snapped.

“Sorry.”

Sam furrowed his brow, but shrugged and moved on like he always seemed to. “Do you feel any urges?”

Dean’s eyes briefly flickered to Cas. “What? No. What kind of...urges?”

“Not those kind of-killing urges, Dean. Murderous rampage urges.”

Dean’s eyes shifted back and forth. “Not especially.”

“And he probably won’t. I mean, he probably won’t be out of control. Most of the torturing instincts of a demon come from the years and years of torment in hell. But he will be going through some changes, though I’m not entirely sure-”

“Changes? I’m a demon. I’m not getting my period. Wait,” Dean’s voice cracked. “I’m not gonna get my demon period am I?”

“No, Dean.”

“This is a terrible idea, but maybe he needs someone to help him, like, transition.”

Dean groaned and leaned his head back. “How is this happening to me?”

“What are you suggesting?” Cas asked.

“I’m not a big fan of his, but he seems to have taken a weird liking to Dean and I don’t know. He could help.”

“We’re not calling Crowley.”

“Ooo, Crowley.” Dean sat up straighter, looking surprised. He moved his tongue in his mouth like he’d tasted something bitter.

“That might happen sometimes. Technically, Crowley is Dean’s king now.”

Dean’s mouth went slack. “Gross.”

“It will be harder for him to dislike Crowley.”

“Crowley,” Dean said happily then his voice changed and he growled, “Dammit.”

“This is gonna be delightful.” Sam rubbed his hands over his face. “I gotta go summon him. He’s the only one who might be able to help.”

Cas hated the idea, but he nodded in agreement. “Okay. I’ll stay with Dean.”

A few moments after Sam left the room, Dean looked at Cas. “Your grace.”

“What about it?”

“It’s weak. I can feel it.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What happened?”

Cas let out a breath and then told Dean everything that had happened in heaven about Gadreel, Hannah, the radio, Metatron being in heaven’s jail. The broken tablet.

“You broke the tablet? Cas, that could replenished your grace, maybe reopened heaven.”

“I had to save you.”

“That turned out well.”

Cas gritted his teeth and glared at Dean. He couldn’t stand there and bear disappointment from Dean, even though he was right. Maybe because he was right. Cas didn’t save Dean.

“I’ll fix this, Dean. I will figure it out. The Mark reversing it, making you human again. All of it.”

“Cas.”

“I will. I swear it.” He’d never meant anything as much as he meant those words.

“My my how the tables have turned,” Crowley said behind him. Cas turned and glared at him. “Dean Winchester, a demon. I’m going to need a moment to bask in this.”

“Crowley,” Sam growled.

“Fine, fine. What do you want?”

“Hi, Crowley,” said Dean eagerly. He shut his mouth and his jaw stiffened.

Crowley winked. “Hey, Dean.”

“So, what’s gonna happen to him?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Your fine or my fine?” Sam asked.

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “Somewhere in between.”

“Is there a way to keep him from murdering people?” Cas asked.

“He’s still got the Mark so he’s still going to want to kill things.”

“Things?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, things. They don’t have to be human.” Crowley smirked.

“What are you talking about?” Dean asked, leaning as forward in his chair as his restraints would allow.

Cas put a hand on his head, starting to feel dizzy and tired from the extra grace he’d used today.

“Have you three geniuses stopped consider how this could be a good thing?” Crowley folded his arms.

“How can my brother being a demon be a good thing?”

“Because Dean is no ordinary demon. He’s a Knight of Hell and more than that he possesses the mark of Cain. He can use telekenesis.”

“That must be how the knife came out of your hand,” Dean said to Sam who nodded.

“He’s impervious to that knife.”

“He can’t possess anyone. The mark keeps him locked in his body, but you three probably see that as good thing. And it also means he can’t be exorcised, but best of all…” Crowley grinned.

“Best of all, what?” Cas stepped closer to Crowley, wanting to feel intimidating, but knowing Crowley could tell he was weak.

“He can smite demons.”

“Smite them?” Sam blinked. “Like the way Cas does?”

Crowley nodded. “Silver lining. But it will take work learning to control all his new powers and you know not accidentally blow up everything.”

“That’s kind of why we asked you here,” Sam said.

“Really now?”

“But if you act like a smarmy dick about it.”

Crowley put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam shrugged it off. “I’d love nothing more than to help one of my newest members learn to use his demon mojo, but my time is very valuable, Moose.”

“What do you want?” Cas snapped with enough energy he had to lean back and catch himself on the table. This stupid stolen grace.

“Nothing from you, Angel Boy. From him.” He nodded toward Sam.

“You want my blood.”

“I think it’s a fair trade.”

Sam grimaced. “Fine.”

“And I’ll need to be nearby much of the time.”

“You’re not staying here,” Dean chimed in.

“You need me here, Dean. Trust me.”

Dean glowered but didn’t refute him.

Cas wanted to say something, but the room had started to spin. He pressed the insides of his wrists to his temple.

“Your grace, man. It’s really not in good shape,” Dean said. “You gotta get back to heaven. Fix yourself.”

Cas’s muscles tightened. He couldn’t stomach the sound of Dean trying to send him away again. Even this demon-version of Dean.

“I’m not leaving you here with him.” Cas glanced toward Crowley. “I’m not leaving you at all.”

Sam laid a hand on Cas’s back. “We all want you here.”

“I don’t,” Crowley interrupted.

“Shut up,” Dean said, but when Crowley looked at him he flinched. Dean’s attention returned to Cas. “Go sort this grace thing out and then come home.”

Home.  This was home, wasn’t it? Something about that sound, that word, coming from Dean to Cas, settled him. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He held his gaze with Dean’s for a moment. He could see the swirling blackness of his soul, but at the same time, he could still feel the shiny, beautiful part that was Dean.

Everything would be fine. He would make it fine.

With that, he turned and left the bunker.

 

. . . 

  
  


That night, Dean laid on the left side of his bed. He wasn’t sleeping because he didn’t have to sleep anymore, but he wanted the familiarity of the bed, so he didn’t have to think about what he was, how different he was.

He was doing his best to hide it from Sam and Cas, but there was an energy pulsing through him he’d never felt before, and a desire for the blade, a desire for a lot of things he’d pushed as far into the recesses of his mind as he could. More and more he was questioning why he did that, why would he ever deny himself a pleasure?

Dean shook his head. That was the demon in him talking, the selfish, twisted thing he was becoming, and he couldn’t let it win. 

Then, like a knocking in his brain, he heard a voice. For a moment, Dean wondered if this was what it was like when Cas heard prayers, but he quickly realized this wasn’t a prayer.

Come here.

Dean knew the voice immediately. It was Crowley. It was his king. He rose from the bed.

Now, Dean.

Crowley had walked into his room and shut the door behind him.

A part of Dean wanted to say ‘no’, but most of him was just screaming to do as he was told, to obey. Dean listened to the second part. It pulled on him from his veins.

That’s it.

Dean stopped right in front of Crowley.

Crowley smirked, looking up at Dean. “Show me your eyes,” he said aloud.

Dean did as he was told and let the demon blackness in his eyes how. He didn’t even know he could control it.

Crowley’s hand went to Dean’s head, right above his ear. “Good boy,” he whispered. “Good boy.”


	2. A New Kind of Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel returns to the heaven to try to sort out the issue of his fading grace.

After a long drive back to heaven’s door, Castiel entered the room that had been Metatron’s study. Three other angels, including Hannah, stood together, talking in hushed voices.

Cas bit down on the inside of his cheek as his eyes went to the chair behind the desk. The chair where he’d learned of Dean’s death, the chair where he’d watched his world split open and bleed out onto the floor. Like Dean’s blood on Metatron’s blade.

“Castiel, Castiel!” Hannah’s voice pulled him back from his memories and when it did, he discovered all the angels staring at him. They must have been saying his name for a while now.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“We didn’t expect you back so soon.” The tone of Hannah’s voice read that they didn’t expect him back at all. Castiel wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“I’m here for now.”

She cast her eyes up and down his torso, narrowed and unsure. “We were discussing leadership, who is to take charge of heaven now that Metatron is imprisoned.”

“Not me,” Castiel answered quickly. He couldn’t. He had issues to deal with back home. Now that he knew where his home was, he knew where his allegiance had to be.

“Nobody is asking you,” said Elijah, who had been one of Metatron’s angels.

“I’m not sure any of us feel prepared to lead,” Hannah added.

“Did you ever consider.” Cas looked away. It wasn’t his place to suggest anything. “Nothing.”

“What is it, Castiel?” Hannah asked.

He probably shouldn’t answer, but he couldn’t help it. Gadreel’s last words were playing in his head. They needed to finally do what they’d been created to do: protect the humans.

“Maybe we should look to the humans,” he finally said.

Elijah’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean their forms of government.”

Elijah laughed. “Their world is torn apart by war, famine and disease and you think we should look to them to see how we should live our lives?”

“As if we’ve done any better, brother,” Benjamin chimed in.

“Castiel is right,” Hannah added.

Elijah huffed. “You two are still members of Castiel’s fan club, aren’t you?”

Those words sounded stilted coming from Elijah. It seemed he’d picked up new vocabulary from Metatron. Cas hoped that wasn’t what he sounded like when appropriated the Winchester’s vocabulary, “assbutt” aside.

Hannah raised an eyebrow. “But why not, Elijah? Why not take the power directly out of one angels hands and put it in all our hands?”

Cas sat down. Being surrounded by the power of heaven, helped support Cas, but he was still reeling from lack of grace.

“What are you doing?” Elijah asked.

His eyes flickered to Hannah. “Resting. Old habit I picked up.”

“You think we should vote for our new leader?” Benjamin asked.

Hannah shook her head. “One leader has been the problem. We need more than one leader.”

Cas was tired, his mind worried about Dean, but he still managed to say. “More than one leader? Like a council?”

Hannah nodded. “Yeah, like a council. An elected council.”

The room was fuzzy around the edges and, for a moment, Cas wanted to give into it, slip away into that blur, but then he remembered Dean. His righteous man with black eyes. Castiel couldn’t leave him. He would never leave him.

“What about re-opening heaven?” Elijah turned to Cas. “You were there. The spell. How did Metatron do it?”

Cas opened his mouth to speak, but words were a lot of effort.

“Let’s talk about it later,” Hannah interrupted. “Why don’t you two go see how everyone else is doing?”

Benjamin and Elijah shared a glance and then walked from the room, letting the door shut behind them.

“What is going on?” Hannah sighed.

Cas put his hands over his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“When you left, you weren’t coming back.”

Cas looked up at her. “I’m running out of grace.”

“You were running out of grace when you left. You were dying when you left and that really didn’t seem to bother you.”

“I never said I wasn’t coming back. I told you I wanted to be an angel.”

Hannah sat down beside Cas on the leather couch Metatron kept at the edge of the room. “Good. Be an angel.” She sighed. “Help us reverse the spell, get the souls into heaven.” Hannah looked at Cas when she said those words. It was true. If Dean had really been dead, and headed to heaven, he’d been trapped in the veil as a spirit. He wasn’t dead, but he was trapped.

“Metatron lied.”

“Excuse me?”

Cas knew better than to tell Hannah the full truth. “Dean isn’t dead.”

“Oh.” She glanced down at her feet. “So you’re not staying?”

“This isn’t my home, Hannah.”

Hannah’s arm was stiff, unsure, but she reached out and patted Cas’s knee. “This is always your home, Castiel.”

“He needs my help and I can’t help them like this.”

“Metatron used your grace in the spell. Maybe if we reverse the spell…”

“I’m dying. I don’t have time for that.”

She let out a long breath, folded her arms, unfolded them, and said, “Give me your hands.”

“Why?”

She pulled her legs onto the couch and sat crossed-legged with her palms up on her knees, almost like when some humans prayed. “Put your hands on mine, Castiel.”

Cas wasn’t sure if he should, but he’d always liked Hannah, probably the best of any angel. There was Gabriel, but he’d loved Gabriel, in a way, on a different level, because Gabriel understood. But Hannah, despite her dislike of Dean, was the best of what angels should be.

“What are we doing?” he asked.

“Grace sharing.”

Cas hesitantly laid his hands on hers. “Can we do that?” Really he meant should we do that? No, they shouldn’t. Cas knew they really weren’t supposed to do that. On top of which, Cas wasn’t really the angels most preferred right now after Metatron’s speech about him and Dean. They probably wouldn’t want to know Hannah was giving her grace so Cas could be with his human (his _demon,_ but they didn’t know that).

“It’s not pleasant, but we can. Old battlefield healing technique.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’ll survive and I’ll heal. My grace will replenish with time since it is my own and it will last longer and be stronger inside you because it is freely given.”

Cas shook his head. “You hate Dean. Why would you do this for him?”

Hannah laughed sharply. “I’m not doing it for him. I’m doing it for you.”

“Why?” After everything Castiel put her through, after abandoning her and the rest of the angels for Dean, how could she? Why would she?

“Because we’re family,” she said.

Hannah drew a long breath and as she breathed out, Cas felt a stinging, cutting surge of power burst into his fingertips and pour like hot lava through his body.

Now this was what grace should feel like.


	3. A New Kind of Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean works on telekinesis with Crowley and Cas gets back from Heaven with Hannah's borrowed grace.

“You have to focus,” Crowley said impatiently as he paced between the sofa and the coffee table.

“I am focusing,” Dean snapped.

He’d been focusing on all day. He didn’t think demons could get tired, but apparently they could when they were using their demon powers. And he was very tired.

“Clearly, you’re not focusing if you can't move the book.”

Dean drew in a deep breath, to steady himself, not because he needed it, and directed all his attention at the dusty encyclopedia in front of him.

The book lifted about an inch off the table and vibrated. It was something but not enough.

“Closer…I guess.” Crowley flopped down on the sofa.

“I’m taking a break now,” Dean snarled.

Crowley cleared his throat and smirked.

Dean gritted his teeth. “Can I take a break now?”

“As you wish.”

With a groan, Dean stood up from the sofa and headed into the kitchen where he figured Sam was. He was right. Sam was sitting at the table drinking a mug of tea. Dean threw open the refrigerator with such force he almost pulled the thing over.

“You all right?” Sam asked.

Dean grabbed a beer out of the fridge. It wasn’t a twist-off cap, but he easily opened it anyway and took a drink. This was the first beer he’d had since turning demon and it wasn’t bad, but it was strange…like he could taste the individual ingredients. The barley, the hops. He thought he could even make a good guess at where geographically the water came from.

He put the beer down on the counter. “I’m gonna kill Crowley.” A sharp pressure moved through his limbs and he knew only one way to make it go away. “No, I’m not,” he said, defeated.

Dean grabbed his beer and sat down at the table with Sam. “The allegiance to Crowley thing is the worst part of this, Sam. The worst.”

“It could be worse. You could be not you at all.”

Dean sighed. Sam was right, but at the same time, he wasn’t going to tell Sam how he really felt. How he didn’t always feel like himself. Because he didn’t really feel guilty or sad or responsible or self-righteous or any of the things that had made Dean Winchester up. In a lot of ways, he felt as if a load of bricks had been picked up off his chest. But he would never say that.

“Have you heard from Cas?” Dean asked, changing the subject.

“He called. He’s on his way.”

Dean felt something inside him jump. It couldn’t be his heart, could it? “He fixed his grace? He’s gonna be okay?”

Sam shrugged. “Cas said he was doing better. He had some mojo back sans wings – and the rest of the angels are working on reversing Metatron’s spell.”

“That’s, uh, cool.” Dean stood up from the table, grabbed his beer and walked out of the kitchen.

He fished into his pocket for his cell phone and opened his favorites.

Sam and Cas.

The only two names on the list.

He pressed on Cas’s name and the phone rang twice. He used to do this a lot. Call Cas, but he’d let it go one or two rings before hanging up. This time he felt no need to hang up. Dean let it go all the way through until Cas answered.

“Are you all right, Dean?”

“Uh, yeah. Just getting a mojo update.”

“I told Sam.”

“I know.”

“So you don’t really need a ‘mojo’ update?”

“Nah, man,” Dean leaned against the wall, “where are you?”

“Stuck in traffic about four hours out. How are your lessons with Crowley?”

“Hell, in an oddly literal sense.”

Cas laughed quietly. Dean smiled. Even in his demonness he felt a swell of pride at making Cas laugh.

“I don’t like him being there,” Cas whispered.

“I don’t either, but-“

“I know.”

“Breaks over Dean!” Crowley shouted.

Dean sighed. “Sorry, man. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes,” Cas said, “See you.”

Dean hung up the phone and slipped it back in his pocket. He walked back into the living room with Crowley.

“Now sit down,” Crowley said, pointing at the sofa opposite his. “We’re not going anywhere until you hurl that encyclopedia across the room at high speeds.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. He was getting pretty good at that.

. . .

Cas had just driven nearly eight hours straight and he wasn’t tired. At all. Hannah’s grace was really doing wonders for him. He wanted to try it out – smite something, heal something, anything. He hadn’t felt power like this since before he lost his own grace.

Cas parked his car outside the bunker and headed inside. When he got down the steps, he saw Crowley sitting across from Dean.

Books were flying off the shelves and spinning around in a circle over their heads.

“Impressive, kid,” Crowley said.

A smile cracked on Dean’s face. When he turned and looked at Cas, his eyes were black. Dean’s body stiffened and all the books crashed to the ground, his eyes going back to their normal green.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.”

Sam came running into the room. “What happened?”

“Nothing, Moose. Your brother just got…distracted.”

“I’m done for tonight,” Dean said.

Crowley cleared his throat like he always did.

“May I be done for tonight?” Dean corrected.

“Fine, but we start early tomorrow. We’re gonna find some demons to smite.”

Cas was startled by this information and turned to face Crowley. “You’re gonna kill your own people?”

Crowley laughed. “Look who’s talking.”

Cas’s hands balled into fists. He had the power to fight Crowley now. He’d kill him, if Dean didn’t need him. “You don’t speak to me.”

“Cas is right, Crowley. You’re not gonna kill your own demons.”

“Don’t worry those luscious locks, Moose. Just a few out-of-control Abaddon loyalists.”

“Whatever. I’m going to my room,” Dean said.

Cas let out a breath. “Dean? My, uh, bag you brought it in for me a few days ago…I wasn’t sure where.”

Dean put his hands into his pockets. “I’ll show you.”

His heart beat sharply in his chest. It was a strange feeling that he’d never known before he was human, but even though he wasn’t human anymore, it hadn’t gone away. He caught up to Dean in the dimly lit hallway.

“You look good,” Dean said quietly.

Heat pooled in Cas’s cheeks. He wished he didn’t know why – like he used to not know why – but he does now.

“I mean, your grace looks good.”

Cas swallowed. “You can see it now, can’t you?”

Dean stopped and turned to face him. “Yeah. It reminds me of-“

“Of what?”

“I was gonna say when Sam and I used to catch fireflies in mason jars, but that’s dumb as hell.”

Cas just stared back Dean. He had no idea what to say to that.

“Can you see me? Because I remember Ruby and she was,” Dean shuddered.

Cas half-smiled. “I can see your soul. It’s different, darker, but it’s still,” _beautiful,_ “you.”

Dean started walking again. Cas followed him. Dean pushed open the door to his room. Dean’s room.

Cas stayed in the doorway.

“You can come in,” Dean said.

“Right.” Cas’s mouth felt dry, his eyes on the bed. “Why’s my bag in your room?”

“It was on the table. I guess Sam put it in here after I kicked the bucket.”

“Oh.”

Dean picked up the bag and pressed it into Cas’s arms. Their fingers brushed, and if Cas didn’t know better, he’d have sworn Dean’s breath hitched at the contact. Cas threw the strap over his shoulder.

The door shut behind them. Dean’s eyes were black. Fear jolted through Cas. The strap of his bag was pulled off Cas’s shoulder and the bag thudded on the floor.

“W-what are you doing?”

Dean’s eyes were still full blown black. His voice was almost a growl as he spoke, “You’re supposed to feel less as a demon, want less.”

“Dean, what are you talking about?”

“Don’t,” he snarled. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“Know what? Dean, stop.”

Dean gasped, his eyes flashing back green again. “Cas, I…”

Cas picked his bag back up off the ground, his head spinning, despite his full-powered grace.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’m not.” Dean sat down on the edge of his bed. He covered his face with his hands. “Get out of my _bedroom_ Cas. Now.”

Cas left Dean’s room. He considered going to Sam, telling him what happened, but Cas wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, not entirely sure stopping its course was the best thing he could have done.

 

. . .

 

Dean laid in bed, doing his best not to think about what had happened. How it had still been him speaking to Cas earlier, just with his inhibitions stripped away, him with long and better-off-buried thoughts climbing their way to the surface.

Maybe smiting demons with Crowley tomorrow would be a good thing. He needed more control over himself, and even if it was the last thing he wanted, he needed separation from Cas. But why would he need something he didn’t want?

That was the demon again. He knew it. Still, Dean was the demon? How could he fight himself? Why should he?

Dean’s thoughts were cut short, severed, almost as if they had never been there by that voice he could not ignore nor disobey.

_Come on, boy. It’s time for your walk._


	4. A New Kind of Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up with no memory of the last few days, but it seems to spark a new control over his demon powers.

Dean woke up with a blistering headache. He didn’t even know demons could have headaches, but somehow, someway, he had one. He blinked a few times and then realized he shouldn’t even be able to sleep. Had this all been some horrible dream? Was he actually still human?

He forced his eyes open though they were heavy and bleary. Plush blue carpet, cream colored walls, velvet curtains…where was he? Dean pushed himself up, feeling the soft golden sheets beneath his hands. He looked down and to his left.

“Who the hell are you?” Dean shot half way across the hotel room.

“You could at least pretend to remember my name.” A naked woman with short brown hair and bright blue eyes turned over in the bed and grinned at Dean.

“Uh…” Dean didn’t do this kind of crap anymore. Seriously, how did he even get here? What happened?

“That’s okay, tiger. I didn’t tell you my name. I liked what you were calling me anyway.”

“Yeah. What was that?”

She sat up, letting the sheets pool around her waist. “Angel.”

Dean looked away.

“Oh, come on. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, honey-“

“Angel.”

“ _No_. Look. I don’t remember last night at all.”

She slid out of the bed. “Way to make a girl feel special.”

“How special do you think you are to me when I don’t know your name and you don’t know mine? So can we drop the pretense?”

She started getting dressed. “Fine. You weren’t special to me either, buddy. Talented as you are.”

Dean sighed, his demonness seemed to drain any sort of patience from him. He needed to know what happened last night. He could just make her tell him, scare her to death, but Dean wasn’t sure what would happen to him if he started walking down that road. He fought against these desires for 30 years in hell. He could do it now, even if he felt like it went against his very nature.

“I’m sorry. I’m just…startled. Do you remember where we met?”

“Uh yeah,” she said. “Las night. Kayden’s rave.”

Dean was a 35 year old man, demon, whatever. He shouldn’t be anywhere near the words “Kayden” or “rave”. He took another look at the woman. She was narrow, with tattoos on her ribs, and a blue lace bra. She had a small nose ring and when Dean looked at her face, really looked, damn.

“For the love of God, please tell me you’re over 18.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m 20. It’s not like you’re some kind of perv.”

Twenty was still…and she was…and he didn’t know her name and called her angel and yeah, ‘some kind of perv’ seemed to cover it. A part of him was saying ‘just kill her. It will be fun’ and another part was saying ‘just say ‘it’s been nice, baby, but get out’’ neither one of those things sounded like a logical idea so he thought: what would Sam do?

“Um, do you need money for a cab or something?”

She laughed. “I’ve got it.” She buttoned her jeans and threw on her white blouse. “You know, guy, you didn’t seem out of it last night. You didn’t seem drunk or high. At all. Had I known…I wouldn’t have.”

“It’s- don’t worry about it.”

She smirked. “Do I need to buy _you_ a cab?”

He shook his head, looking down at his bare feet. Dean was still mostly naked except his boxers.

“Was I alone last night?”

“You said you were with someone, but I never saw her or him or whoever.”

The door handle shook and Dean froze. So did the girl.

“Uh, busy.” Dean shouted, but the door opened.

Sam, Cas and Crowley were all standing the door way.

“Dean!” Sam snapped as he walked inside followed by Crowley and Cas.

Dean couldn’t decide if he felt angry or embarrassed or what.

“Whatever this is,” the girl said. “You did not pay me enough.”

“You’re a prostitute?” Cas asked, eyes wide.

“No!” Dean snapped. She wasn’t, was she?

The girl rolled her eyes. “I was kidding.” She looked back at Dean. “Thanks for – yeah I’m outta here.” She grabbed her bag and pushed past Cas and Crowley and disappeared out the door.

“We’ve been looking for you for two days,” Cas growled.

Sam glared at Crowley. “Because he lost you.”

“It’s not my fault your brother can’t stay put.”

“Two days? It’s been two days?” Dean gripped his head and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Do you really not remember what happened?” Cas asked, edging closer to him. Dean suddenly realized he was still wearing his boxers. He scrambled off the bed and grabbed his jeans. He pulled them on quickly, doing his best not to look at Cas.

He also became acutely aware of his shirtlessness as he looked up at Cas who was staring wide-eyed back at him. “I really don’t.”

“Dean,” he said with a sigh that made Dean turn his back.

“You could have done anything,” Sam whispered, almost as if he didn’t mean to say it aloud.

“Neither of you are helping.” Dean groaned. “You didn’t find me by following a trail of corpses, did you?”

“Credit card bills,” Cas said.

Sam sighed. “And damaged property, arson, trespassing…”

“Mopery,” Crowley said.

Sam forced a half-smile. “So really nothing new for us.”

“Except you left a rather obvious trail. I imagine the authorities are not far behind in their search for you. We should probably head back to the bunker.”

“Yeah, Cas. Good idea.”

 

. . .

 

Dean had a headache so he was resting in the back seat. Sam was driving and Crowley called shotgun. Normally, Sam and Dean would’ve told Crowley to ‘shove it’, but Dean said the rules of shotgun had to be followed. Cas was really fed up with Dean always siding with Crowley.

Cas wasn’t sure what had happened in these last two days – or how these last two days had started – but he sure was glad to have Dean back. And maybe Sam wouldn’t let Crowley take Dean out on hunts when Sam or Cas weren’t around.

Dean kicked his boots up and then put his feet on the seat next to Cas. He leaned his head against the window. Cas’s gaze kept traveling down to the small sliver of skin exposed between his sock and the top of his jeans. Three small freckles curved over his ankle bone. Had Dean ever noticed that before hell he only had two freckles there? Cas had added one as he rebuilt him. It was a silly thing to do, and thinking back on it, Cas had no idea why the perfect little soldier of heaven he’d been would’ve done something like that. His fingers stretched out to touch that third freckle, his freckle, but Cas retreated as soon as he realized what he was doing.

“We’re just going to have work harder at training,” Crowley broke the silence.

“The last time you trained him _this_ happened so I don’t think-“

“He needs to learn control and the only way to do it is to practice.”

“Have you ever thought that teaching him these things might just be what’s making him lose control?”

“You want him to deny his nature?”

“It’s not his nature.”

“SHUT UP!” Dean’s voice echoed, loud and unnatural. Neither Crowley or Cas could say anything. Cas glanced over at Dean. His eyes were black.

“Dean,” Sam said calmly.

Dean blinked and his eyes returned to green. Crowley gasped. Cas semi-consciously touched his throat.

“Will the two of you stop fighting?” Dean said through his teeth.

“He started it,” Crowley spat.

Cas just rolled his eyes. He hated everything about Crowley. Dean and Sam might act like they’ve forgotten what he did. That he twisted and turned Cas around until he betrayed the one person Cas would die a hundred deaths, a thousand deaths, before he’d ever betray. No Cas would not forgive or forget.

 

. . .

 

A few weeks later, Dean had still no memory of those days he was missing, but ever since then he'd become a lot more comfortable with powers and seemed to have a lot more control over them. Sometimes when Cas closed his eyes, he could still see Dean, easily, swiftly, smiting a demon with the palm of his hand. Cas tried not to think about how his body had gone rigid, his mouth dry at the sight.

Things were just different. They’d be sitting at the table and Dean would open the refrigerator with his mind and beer would come flying out and into his palm. The bottle cap would even pop off on his own. He seemed to be enjoying his powers and Cas wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.

Cas brewed a pot of coffe and then poured some into a mug. When he turned around, Dean was hovering behind him. Cas spilt the coffee all over the place.

“Dammit Dean.”

Dean laughed. “Now you know what it’s like.”

“You made a mess,” Cas growled.

“I’m a demon, Angel. Messes are our specialty.”

Cas looked down at the brown liquid on his shirt and the floor. Dean grabbed the front of Cas’s shirt and Cas stiffened.

“Don’t you have another shirt?”

“No.”

“Well,” Dean ran his hand over a button on Cas’s shirt. “You can borrow one of mine.”

Cas glanced across the room because he was rather certain his heart had shot out of his chest and was lying somewhere on the floor.

“What’s going on?” Crowley. Always Crowley.

Dean abruptly backed away from Cas. “Just trying to get the angel to change his clothes for once.”

_I have enough angel mojo to make these two shut up._

Cas let out a breath and released some grace. His shirt cleaned itself up and so did the floor. He poured himself another mug of coffee and then leaned into Dean.

This was stupid, but he was feeling angry and something, something else. Cas slammed an unsuspecting Dean against the wall with his grace, pinning his hands to his sides.

“Don’t forget what I am,” Cas hissed.

Dean swallowed, his eyes intent on Cas. Cas let Dean go, forgot his coffee and then turned and walked out of the kitchen. He ran into Sam in the hallway.

“Sorry,” Sam said.

“Hm,” Cas muttered.

Sam grabbed is arm. “You okay, man?”

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.”

Cas sighed. “Have you noticed Dean’s been different?”

Sam chuckled. “He’s a demon now. That’s bound to happen.”

“I know, it’s just,” Cas wasn’t sure how to phrase it because he wasn’t even sure what he was thinking or feeling.

“What Cas?”

“I feel like he’s been different with…me.”

“What? Because he’s a demon and you’re an angel. Mortal enemies or something?”

Cas took a deep breath. “He’s been touching me, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes got really wide. “Touching you?”

Cas didn’t know what to say, but his mind flashed through other examples from the past few weeks. Dean was always pressing up behind him when he passed by, closer than he needed to, close enough to make Cas’s face flush. He’d grabbed Cas by the belt loop to pull him out of the way. This wasn’t really touching, but sometimes he’d take Cas’s beer bottle and drain the last few sips, running his tongue along edge. Cas shuddered, trying to shake away the heat he suddenly felt all over.

“It’s stupid.”

Sam bit his lip. “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but is he touching you in some way you don’t like? You can tell me if he is.”

It’s not that he didn’t like it. He did. He loves it, but that was the problem because human Dean never acted like this. Human Dean cared about Cas, human Dean was Cas’s friend, but he didn’t reciprocate the kind of feelings Cas started having about Dean this year…he didn’t…he couldn’t…

“Whether I like it isn’t the point.”

“It’s not?”

“I just don’t understand _why_. Why _now_?”

Sam laid a hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Dean’s not a regular demon. He told me about Cain before all this. Dean feels things. Dean is a demon but he’s still Dean. Talk to him about it.”

That prospect sounded terrifying, but Cas just nodded.

Sam started to step around Cas but then stopped. “Oh, and I think we’ve got a case not too far from here. Colorado, actually. Looks like ritual killings, probably witches or something. You in?”

“I have to head back to heaven. Not for long. I’ll call you when I get back and meet up with you if I can.”

Sam nodded. “Okay, but talk to Dean before you go.”

“Okay,” Cas replied, but he didn’t. Dean was playing cards with Crowley and laughing and so Cas just left without even saying goodbye.


End file.
